


He's a message, I'm the runner.

by nylandeer



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Fluffy, M/M, Previous Relationship, Tumblr ficlet, international scavenger hunt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-06 09:44:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1853452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nylandeer/pseuds/nylandeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their busy schedules make it impossible for the two of them to physically be together. So why do they <i>just happen</i> to turn up in the same cities within a week of each other? </p><p>OR</p><p>When things get shaky, Harry sets up an international scavenger hunt of sorts to keep he and Nick connected, even if they can't physically be together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. London & LA

**Author's Note:**

> I was totally inspired by the tags on [this post](http://masturfates.tumblr.com/post/89974160385/grimmygang-why-do-nick-harry-do-this-thing) by the lovely [masturfates](http://masturfates.tumblr.com), so here’s some words about Nick and Harry's international scavenger hunt of sorts.  
> Originally posted [here](http://restingonhislaurels.tumblr.com/post/90015722647/hes-a-message-im-the-runner-nick-harry-pt-1) on my tumblr.

It all starts with a phone call on a particularly cold and rainy March afternoon. The call is from Harry, and Nick steps out of a rather important meeting to take it. Because it’s Harry, and he’s been halfway round the world for what seems like forever, and Harry never calls him. Texts him five hundred times a day, speaks to him cryptically over Instagram, but Harry never calls Nick.

“Hiya popstar,” Nick beams into the phone. “How’s Los Angeles treating you?”

“It’s uh, it’s good,” Harry drawls, “Much sunnier than here in London.”

“Yeah London is- wait did you say here in London?” Nick instantly perks up. It’s been so long, so so long.  “Are you in London? When did you get here? How long are you here for?”

“Okay okay,” Harry protests meagerly. “It’s not the Spanish Inquisition, slow down Grimshaw. I’m only in town for like, twelve hours. I have to go to Clevedon to film a new music video, and then I’m back to LA.”

“Oh, okay” Nick mumbles. “I wish I could’ve seen ya.”

“Me too Grim. But uh, I need you to do me a favor?”

Nick is used to this, everyone asking him for favors because “you know everyone Nick!” He’s not, however, used to it from Harry. Whereas so many people saw Nick as their little black book, or a ticket into a party or fashion show, Harry never saw Nick like that. He never asked Nick for anything, besides a cuppa or a place to crash.

“Sure Harry, whatever you need” he chirps, but it sounds too forced, even to him.

“Nick, it’s not like that,” Harry assures him, and Nick breaths a heavy sigh. “I just need you to pick up something for me.”

Harry gave Nick very specific instructions, and insisted that Nick follow them to the letter. So here he is, clutching a key to one of the rooms in the Groucho Club, with no idea what might be on the other side of the door. He takes a deep breath, and swings open the door. There’s no one and nothing inside.

“Stupid fucking weirdo popstar. What am I even doing here?” Nick grumbles to himself. “What were your next instructions? Should’ve written ‘em down. Getting too old Grimshaw. Uhh lets see, I think look under the bed.”

He scrambles down to his hands and feet, and sure enough, under the bed is a large, skinny box wrapped in red paper. He slides it out from underneath and clamors onto the bed, where he rips open the red paper to reveal a large white box. Inside the box is a dark blue suit, and two sealed, cream colored envelopes. One says _“open me now”_ and the other says _“open me in one week”_. Nick tears into the first envelope and pulls out a thick cream card with a black “HS” emblazoned across the top.

_Nick,_

_The first time you took me here, you wore a navy blue suit and I spilled a drink all over it. I know this replacement is long overdue, but better late than never, eh? I hope this one makes your arse look just as good as that old one did._

_All my love,_

_Harry_

_PS, I know you really want to open that other letter now, but wait. I promise it will be worth it._

Damnit if Harry didn’t know him better than he knew himself. He slid the second card -still unopened- into his jacket pocket. He lifts the suit jacket out of the box, and it truly is beautiful. It’s much nicer than the one Harry ruined a few years prior He runs a finger over Harry’s sign off, the three words done in Harry’s wonky handwriting. _“All my love.”_ Once, he and Harry had been together. Properly in love and all that. But Harry was constantly on the move, and Nick needed something more solid, so they both decided to let go of that part. But they never let go of each other. _“All my love.”_

 

**

For the next few weeks, this pattern repeats itself. Nick will open the second letter, inscribed on the outside with _“open me in one week,”_ exactly a week after he got it. Inside, there will be a set of coordinates, a hotel key, the address of a little shop, and every week Nick will go to wherever the sloping black handwriting tells him to go. And at every location, there’s a present, a letter explaining the significance of the place and the present, and a second sealed letter saying _“open me in one week.”_ He and Harry never discuss it.

The week before Nick is supposed to fly to Los Angeles for Coachella, he’s worried. What if there’s a letter telling him to go somewhere, and he can’t? He picks up this week’s package, a stack of old records Nick has been searching for, from a little shop in Camden Town that he and Harry went to long ago. The letter marked _“open me in one week”_ sits on his bedside table, taunting him. He relents two days before he’s supposed to leave for Los Angeles, three days before he should be opening the letter. This one has more writing than the instruction letters usually do.

_Nicky,_

_You opened it early didn’t you? I knew you would. Your next destination will be in sunny LA. It is important that you follow this set of instructions very carefully._

 

**

Nick, Daisy, Alexa and Pixie spill from the cab in front of a massive house somewhere in the outer reaches of Los Angeles. They’re all drunk and soaring from that day’s excitement at the festival, and Nick decided now was the time to head his latest set of instructions.

“Niiiick,” slurs Daisy, “What are we doing here? Who’s house is this?”

“It’s Harry’s house!” Alexa pipes up. “I’ve been here before. Are we going in?” She tugs expectantly at Nick’s elbow

“Yes, yes we are going in,” Nick mumbles. “If I can remember where Harry said the spare key is.”

“Oh I know!” Alexa beams. Suddenly, she’s stuck her hand into one of the huge pots that flank the front door that holds a towering and wobbly palm tree. She pulls her hand out a moment later, brandishing a shiny silver key, which she attempts to unlock the door with. In the end however, she is a little bit too drunk, and she begrudgingly offers the key up to Nick.

He lets them in, and the girls are pouring into the house, immediately searching every corner for food. Nick knows Harry isn’t here, he flew to London the same day Nick flew to LA. Harry's instructions cut off at where the spare key was hidden -not that Nick even remembered-, so he wanders through the house, and he has to admit, it really is beautiful. He peeks into all the rooms, and gives himself a quick pat on the back for having a hand in improving Harry’s taste. Without him, Harry’s house would be full of life size action figures and paintable surfaces like Zayn.

On the top floor, at the end of the hall, there’s a room with the door closed. Nick shouldn’t look in there. There’s probably a good reason the door is closed. It’s probably Harry’s room. But Harry’s not here, he’ll never know, right? And what’s the harm anyways. Nick swings the door open and he swears he hears his jaw hit the floor. This room is the real life equivalent of Nick’s “future bedroom” Pinterest board. He can’t believe Harry would steal his dream bedroom!

He runs to the closet to see if... and yep, Nick’s exact design for a closet. One side is packed with Harry’s things, and the other is bare. Except for one solitary striped something sitting on a shelf. Nick walks over to it, and, well, it’s his shirt. One of his favorite shirts; an orange and white striped one that Harry stole ages ago. When he lifts up the shirt, one sealed envelope falls out.

He tears it open to reveal the same cream card there always is, and reads Harry’s latest message.

_Nick,_

_I hope you’re enjoying LA. If you and the girls want to stay here during your visit, you are more than welcome to. I hope you enjoy Coachella as much as I did last weekend. I wish I could have been here while you’re in town, but alas, duty calls. I’m sorry I’ve had this shirt for so long, I know it’s one of your favorites. I stole it before I left for LA in the fall, trying to take a piece of you with me. Unfortunately, it’s nowhere near as good as the real thing, but sometimes it has to do. Maybe you’ll take it home now, and it will never see the inside of this closet again. Maybe you’ll leave it for me to have for good. But what I hope, beyond all hope, is that some day, it’s joined in here by the rest of your clothes._

_All my love,_

_Harry_

Nick and the girls end up calling the hotel to have their bags sent over, and stay at Harry’s for the rest of the trip. At the end of the weekend, as they pack their bags to head home, Nick takes one of his sweaters out, tucks the note he wrote on a half crumpled receipt inside, and places it, carefully folded, on top of the orange and white striped shirt.

As they pull away from the house, Daisy muses, “You loved that master bedroom huh Grim? It’s like your dream, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Harry built it just for you.”

  
  



	2. Manchester, London, Paris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2! Sorry it took so long. Enjoy~~

“Nick, there’s a parcel here for you,” Clare the intern calls, poking her head into the studio.

“Excuse me! We’re doing a radio show here!” barks Matt, eyes focused on his monitor. Everyone in the studio laughs.

“Finchy,” Ian groans, “I thought we gave up this ruse a long time ago.”

“Ian Michael Chaloner-”

“‘S not my name.”

“This is a proper radio station and a proper radio show and I will be damned-”

“It’s my package and my show! Bring it ‘ere Clare!” Nick finally shouts over his producers bickering. “Alright shut up you two, link’s comin’ up!”

After the link, Clare brings in a small box and hands it to Nick over his monitor. There’s no address on it, just ‘Nick Grimshaw’ in wobbly black lettering. Nick’s heart skips a beat.

“What is it Nick?” prods Fiona from across the desk.

“It’s uh, nothing.”

“Niiiiick,” Fiona whines, and he bats her away with a large hand.

He fishes his keys from his pocket and wedges one under a flap of the box and slides, ripping open the tape. He repeats this on the other side and the top until the flaps spring open. It’s filled with pink packing chips and seemingly nothing else. Nick dumps the contents of the box onto the floor, eliciting a groan from Matt, and a cream colored envelope spills out with the packing chips. It has Nick’s name on it in black writing that matches the front of the box. Before Nick can pick it up, however, someone else snatches it from the floor. When he looks up, he sees Matt standing over him, holding the envelope and grinning.

“A whole box of packing chips and a single letter? Seems like odd contents of a package to me.”

“Finchy give it back,” Nick says, his voice almost begging.

“Why little Nicky?” Matt taunts. “What’s in this letter? It it a love note from-”

Before he can finish, however, Nick’s leapt at him from this chair, sending both of them toppling to the carpet, where they wrestle, hands snatching at the envelope. Nick finally grabs it back, and sits firmly on top of it, protecting it from prying eyes and grabbing hands while Matt pouts openly for the remained of the show.

When they wrap up the last remaining link, Nick tucks the letter into his pocket and wishes everyone a quick goodbye before dashing out of the studio and hailing a cab.

Once tucked safely into the back of the cab, he takes out the now slightly crumpled envelope and tears it open.

_Nick,_

_I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last clue, but things have been extremely busy with our tour going on. Here are the directions for the next spot on this hunt:_

# 53°12'16.3"N 2°20'14.6"W

_You’ll know where to look._

_All my love,_

_Harry_

_P.S. Do try to be back in time for our Sunday evening show. I’d hate for you to miss it, I know you’re a huge fan of 5 Seconds of Summer._

_P.P.S. There will be ten tickets waiting for you at will call. If you’d like._

Nick quickly plugs the coordinated into his phone, and it spits out a spot in Manchester.

"Excuse me," Nick says to the cabbie, "could you take me to Euston station instead?"

 

**

Punching the coordinates Harry gave him into Google Maps takes him to the middle of Ryecroft Wood, a small forest in Holmes Chapel on the banks of the River Dane. He's standing on the bank of a small creek, the exact same spot Harry took him the first time Nick went back to Holmes Chapel with him, but for the life of him, Nick cannot figure out where his next clue might be squirreled away. He sits down on a tree that bends over the river, thinking that maybe he should give up with this one and just ask Harry where it is. The day is cold and foggy, with clouds seemingly settling about Nick's shoulders. He shivers and pulls his jacket tighter about himself.

Then, he spots it, and the memory clicks in his mind. A stump on the opposite bank of the creek with a large heart carved into it. Nick jumps ungraciously from the tree and makes his way from rock to rock across the swiftly rushing creek. When he and Harry were here several years before, Harry had taken the knife from their picnic and carved a wobbly heart into a fat tree. Now, the tree has been beheaded, but something has been added inside the heart.

In fresh letters, still oozing sap, the words "Harry + Nick = Forever" have been carved in awkward straight letters. Nestled between the roots of the tree is a brown paper bag, sealed tight in a large ziplock. Nick picks it up and opens the ziplock, pulls out the paper bag held within. There's a drawing in black marker on the front almost identical to the one carved into the front of the tree stump. He unrolls the top of the paper bag. Inside, there are two envelopes - _open me now_ &  _open me later_ , as always- and a stack of photographs.

Nick tucks the letters into his pocket and takes the photographs in hand. The first is a picture of the tree as it originally stood, tall and handsome, branches stretching out across the creek. The second is of Harry, his back to the camera, knife in hand, carving shaky words into the tree trunk. Nick recognizes these pictures, as he is the one who took them those years before. The next one, Nick doesn't recognize. It's of Harry, as he looks now, standing under the tree with an axe in his hand. The next is of the felled tree, with Harry standing triumphantly on the stump. 

The next few are of Harry in a shop, cutting the felled tree into logs, then boards, sanding and shaping them, then painting them with a dark varnish that looks quite familiar. Following this set, there is one of the exterior of Harry's house in LA, with Harry holding a stack of varnished boards on the doorstep. The last is the interior of the closet in Harry's bedroom, with Harry leaning on half built shelves of dark, gleaming wood.

 

**

The show was great, bloody brilliant, even with the hoards of screaming fans around him. Harry was absolutely magnetic, and Nick knows he wasn't the only one who couldn't take his eyes off him the entire time. After the show herd of his friends' children had carried him backstage, where they're currently waiting for the boys to emerge from places unknown. Nick hasn't seen Harry in months, besides a quick encounter at Big Weekend, and even over text or on the phone they haven't discussed the clues and gifts Harry's been leaving for him. Nick is a ball of nervous energy, and he feels as if it's vibrating throughout the room.

A door in the wall swings open, and Louis Tomlinson spills out of it with a stupid grin plastered across his face. His eyes dart about the room, taking in the backstage crowd, and settling on Nick.

"Grimshaw," he growls. Nick just throws him a half smile, currently lacking the patience or composure to deal with the boy that dubbed  _himself_ Nick's 'arch-nemesis'. Louis clearly has other plans. "Started any twitter feuds with children lately?"

"No, but I did meet David Beckham the other day. Said to tell you to stop being such a twat."

Louis opens his mouth to shoot back at him, but Niall bursts through the door next and clamps a hand down on Louis' mouth.

"That's enough Lou," he says with a smile. "Hiya Nick, how're ya?"

"Great thanks," he says, substituting this for another jab at Louis.

Niall pulls Louis in the direction of their family and friends, as Liam and Zayn spill out of the door in a flurry of faux-punches and leather jackets. They all make their way around the room, stopping to talk to various family, friends, and fans. Nick sits gingerly on the arm of a couch where his friends are perched and jiggles his foot nervously.

Nick's looking at his phone when the room falls silent. Without even looking up, Nick know's Harry's just entered the room. He tends to have that effect, even among a group of mostly people who know him and in the presence of several of Nick's friends -who could be considered far more famous than Harry.

"Hi guys," comes the low drawl from somewhere in front of Nick.

The conversations around him pick up once more. Nick looks up slowly, and there he is; a mess of wild hair, plaid, and tattoos. He takes several long strides towards Nick, but veers off at the last second to chat with Nick's friends and their kids. Nick feels as if his whole body is jiggling with nerves. After a few minutes of hugs and selfies, Harry arranges everyone on the couch to take a group photo with Nick's phone. Nick reaches across the back of the couch to place his fingertips on Harry's shoulder. Harry's smile broadens. After the picture is snapped, Harry gets up from the couch and makes his way over to Nick, finally. He pulls him into a hug, and he smells like Burberry and deodorant.

"How are you?" Harry asks when they pull apart.

"'m alright. You alright?"

"Yeah," Harry says with a smile. "What've you been up to?"

"Well," Nick replies, going for what he hopes is a mischievous grin, "I've been on a pretty interesting scavenger hunt as of late."

"Oh?" asks Harry, quirking an eyebrow.

"C'mon lads!" Liam calls suddenly. "Time for us to go!"

"Sorry Nick, I've got to run. About your scavenger hunt though," Harry says in a whisper. Nick leans in close, hoping for something straightforward from him. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

And then he's gone, back through the door in a tornado of hair and twenty-something boys.

 

**

Nick's sitting alone at a table at Chilltern Firehouse, at ten in the morning, holding the most recent  _open me in a week_ letter, and feeling like an idiot for saying 'x marks the spot' to his waiter with a nervous grin. But that's what the letter had told him to do, so he had done it. Fifteen minutes later, his waiter emerges with a heaping plate of french toast covered in fresh berries and powdered sugar, a mimosa, and a red gift bag. He sets the plate down on the table with a broad smile and hands the bag off to Nick.

"Enjoy your brunch Mr. Grimshaw. It's all already been payed for as well, please let me know if you need anything else."

Nick sets his open letter on the table next to the plate of food and digs into the bag to pull out two letters and a red Virgin Airways envelope.

_Nick_

_I hope one day I can go to this city with you, but for now, we can pretend. Enjoy the city of love & lights._

_All my love,_

_Harry_

Nick opens the Virgin Airways envelope to find one round way trip to Paris.

 

**

Once words got around that Nick would be in Paris, several invites for various high profile events are extended to him. He attends all of them with relish of course, but he's itching to follow the map Harry's laid out for him around the city. Once he's fulfilled all of his duties, he throws on an uncharacteristic baseball cap, buys a metro pass and sets off for the first location on Harry's map.

This scavenger hunt within the greater hunt takes him to various places throughout the city, some famous sites, a few museums, restaurants, and even an open air market. At each stop, Nick picks up a letter, containing a picture of Harry in that place, and instructions to do, eat, drink, or see something, apparently in the exact way Harry had done while there the week before. He eats delicious pastries, tries interesting cheeses, drinks the best coffee he's ever had, rides a bike along the seine and clips a lock with their names scrawled on it on a bridge. He takes pictures of himself at every stop and sends them to Harry. There's no response.

The last spot on the map Jules Verne, the restaurant on top of the Eiffel Tower. Nick gets a table right away and is brought course after delicious course, gobbling up every bite as he drinks champagne and stares out over the city.

At the end of the meal, the waiter brings Nick a red bag and lets him know the meal is all paid for. Nick thanks him and smiles, and he retreats back into the kitchen. Nick digs into the bag and pulls out two letters. He uses his knife to slice open  _open me now_.

_Nick,_

_So? What'll it be?_

"What the fuck?" Nick murmurs to himself, incredibly confused. He digs in the bag for any other clues. His fingers close around what seems to be a small box covered in smooth velvet. "No way."

**Author's Note:**

> This is a trashbag. I haven't even edited. Forgive everything.  
> Will post the next part soon.


End file.
